


Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match

by KitsJay



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M, kinkmeme fill, so hey guess what I was the Christmas anon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsJay/pseuds/KitsJay
Summary: Roddy has newfound support from Nick and Monroe. Now if only they would focus more on each other and less onhim.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a fill on the Grimm kinkmeme.

It was after the concert, his two ersatz guardians beaming like proud parents in the back and _completely embarrassing him_ when Nick proceeded to cheer louder than the entire audience combined and Monroe glared at surrounding people he felt weren’t clapping enough, that it had first entered Roddy’s mind. He had left with a goofy grin, climbing into the back of the car as Monroe talked about how talented he was and called him “cub”, and started his speech about true talent.

Naturally Nick had to interrupt. “You’re going the wrong way,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” Monroe said. “Blutbaden have a great sense of direction.”

“Maybe if they have their GPS with them, because you should have taken that exit.” Nick turned in his seat and smiled at Roddy. “You really were terrific.”

“If I wanted to go to Wisconsin, I should have taken that exit, but otherwise, this is the right way.” He glanced in the rear view mirror and caught Roddy’s eyes. “You rocked, man.”

“I’m telling you, you’re going to get us lost.”

“I am not.”

They were having another fight, or what they called a fight and what everyone else called “old married couple”, not that Roddy would ever tell them that, because even if they did seem pretty nice, they were still terrifying. The Grimm, the Blutbad, and the Reitegen. It was like some bizarre reality show that Roddy had somehow unwittingly signed up for and was now stuck in.

Honestly, it wasn’t even that bad most of the time. Monroe had helped him out on his music lessons, showing him way more than his old music teacher ever could, and his violin playing sounded better than ever. Nick had talked to some people and somehow his suspension had magically gone away, his scholarship money had re-appeared, and even if he did nag Roddy about homework, it was kind of nice, like having a mom again who would ask constantly if he had studied and how his tests went and yet always with a background thrum of genuine affection and concern.

If they would just admit that they liked each other… Roddy rolled his eyes and stared out the window in the backseat. Nice guy or not, Grimms were terrifying. His dad had told him too many stories to completely let it go, one eye constantly on Nick just in case he suddenly went crazy and killed Roddy just for being different, and as for the blutbad… He shivered. He still remembered when that griffin had thought he would make a good meal and Monroe had appeared out of nowhere, tearing into the thing with razor sharp claws and baring his teeth at it. He had watched, wide-eyed, as Monroe had torn the griffin’s wing off without even exerting himself. Nick had appeared like the Grimm stories he had been told, shooting the thing so many times that he actually ran out of bullets.

And then they had turned and casually asked if he was okay, like it wasn’t any big thing, like they weren’t like frickin’ action movie stars. He half expected the griffin to explode and them to walk casually away from the fire while quipping a corny one-liner.

It was kind of bad-ass in an, “oh my god, they can seriously kill me without blinking” kind of way. He had done his homework and studied within an inch of his life for the next two weeks, just in case Nick forgot that Roddy was a good guy and looked much better without a bullet through his heart.

But this? This was getting old. Fast.

He thought about it, the beginnings of a plan hatching in his mind. Maybe… He couldn’t just come out and tell them—he could just imagine that going over well—but Sarah had dragged him to enough romantic comedies that he was sure he could pull something off.

He was going to need some help, though.

Hearing Nick’s exasperated sigh and Monroe snarking back something, he amended that—he was going to need a lot of help.


	2. Chapter 2

“Uh, I’d like to speak to Detective Burkhardt?” Roddy said, hitching his backpack up his shoulder. The officer who had met him looked him up and down, like he was carrying a switchblade in his pocket or something. It pissed him off, even though he was used to it. All of the teachers, used to kids who wore Abercrombie & Fitch or had trust funds, thought he was some kind of thug just because he came from the wrong side of the tracks. He stuck out his chin and pulled himself up to his full height, meeting the man’s eyes defiantly.

The guy rolled his eyes. “Easy, kid. Wait here while I go find him.”

The officer—Sergeant Wu, his name tag read—disappeared, only to return accompanied by a tall, slender man with a thin nose and dark hair going salt-and-pepper. He was wearing a suit, as compared to the blue uniforms and more casual wear of the detectives, and Roddy got the feeling he was important.

“I’m Captain Renard,” the man said, holding out a hand. Roddy shook it hesitantly. “Sergeant Wu tells me you’re looking for Detective Burkhardt.”

“Yeah, I—“ He paused. “Wait, Captain? Are you Nick’s boss?”

The man’s eyebrows jumped. “Yes, I am,” he said. “And you are?”

“A friend,” Roddy said. “More like a project or something. I don’t know, it’s complicated. My name’s Roddy.”

“I see,” Captain Renard said, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Roddy really hoped the guy knew he had been cleared of all that murder business and wasn’t picturing Roddy in handcuffs right now. “Why don’t we talk about it in my office?”

Yeah, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but Roddy followed him anyway. It was smaller than he would have imagined, one side with windows so he could look at the busy workspace, and another wall paned with windows to the outside. He sat down behind a desk filled with paperwork and looked at Roddy inquisitively.

“Listen, I just need to find out his schedule.”

“May I ask why?”

“Uh,” Roddy debated trying to lie, but one look at the man’s face and he swallowed it, wincing. “He really likes this person, but he won’t admit it, and it’s driving me crazy because they’re both so oblivious to it and I’m just trying to do him a favor and also maybe if he got lai-uh, met someone, he’d stop nagging me about school—“

Renard raised a hand and Roddy immediately stopped.

“Listen, kid, I’m sure you have the best intentions, but maybe you should leave this one alone,” Renard said. Roddy nodded, expecting as much. What he didn’t expect were Renard’s next words, “And because of that, I’m absolutely telling you to leave it alone next Monday.”

“What? Next Monday?”

“Yes. He probably just wants to relax at home on his day off and you absolutely should not be trying to set him up next Monday at his favorite restaurant down the street called Milano Italiano.”

“Oh. Oh!” Roddy stared at the man, who gave him a sly wink.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Renard picked up a pen and gave Roddy an intent look.

He gathered his backpack and paused at the doorway. “Uh, thanks.”

“For what?” Renard asked. “I just gave you some friendly advice.”

“Uhh, right.”

He shook his head as he gently closed the door, somehow feeling creeped out. Couldn’t he find an adult who wasn’t terrifying in some way or fashion?


	3. Chapter 3

“How’d you do on your test?” Nick asked, looking around for some paper towels.

Roddy reached past him to the cupboard and pulled some out, handing them to Nick, who promptly began cleaning the countertop. Roddy shook his head to clear his mind of that weird image. “Uh, good.”

“Just good? You studied all weekend.”

He had. With Nick staring over his shoulder, because that wasn’t intimidating or anything.

“I mean, I think I did well. There were a few things that gave me trouble, but,” he shrugged.

“I’m sure you did your best,” Nick smiled at him. “What do you feel like to eat? I can order Chinese.”

Roddy swallowed. This was it. He had orchestrated this whole thing to the last second and this was the moment of truth. He said as casually as he could manage, “Actually I was thinking we could go out to this place, um, Milano Italiano? James said it was good.”

Nick’s eyes lit up. “It’s got great lasagna. Go grab your coat, let’s go.”

The drive was filled with awkward conversation as Roddy turned over the possibilities in his head. Either this could go perfect (not likely), it could backfire and he could make a break for it (possible), or it could go horribly and Nick and Monroe could kill him and hide the body (probable). Then again, listening to Nick talk about something Monroe had done with a mixture of affection and exasperation and just a tad of wistfulness in his voice, he was willing to take that chance.

They pulled up to the restaurant and Roddy braced himself. Inside, he found Monroe at a table already, and apologetically told Nick, “Sorry, I had already called him and asked him to come.”

“No problem,” Nick said. “Hope you like lasagna.”

“Do they have vegetable lasagna?” Monroe asked, scanning the menu. “Also, we need to talk about your taste in food. ‘Milano Italinao’? Seriously?”

Oh, yeah. It’d be worth it if only to end this.

“Here you go!” their waitress said brightly.

“We haven’t ordere-“ Nick started to say, but she had already lowered a cake onto the table. It was a rich chocolate that both Nick and Monroe loved, covered with frosting, and had a custom message, paid for by Roddy, written in curling white icing: **Just fucking do it already.**

“Uh,” Monroe said. “Does that usually come with the meal?”

“No,” Nick said frostily. He turned to Roddy and crossed his arms. “Care to explain?”

Roddy swallowed. “Listen, I know you guys are probably not happy with me right now, but hear me out.” He waited and they grudgingly nodded. He continued, “You guys are… let me put it this way: you’re not good at hiding your feelings. You’ve been jonesing for each other since I’ve known you and all this tap-dancing around it is driving me nuts. So for my sake, will you just admit it?”

He wasn’t ashamed to add a little pleading into his voice at the end; hell, it might save his life.

“Wait, feelings? You—“ Nick stared at Monroe, who looked a little trapped. They turned back to Roddy. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Gladly,” he said, slipping out of the booth. He waited outside for twenty minutes, until they walked out of the restaurant, way closer than two friends would be, but just about right for two lovers. “Get it all worked out?”

They glanced at each other, then looked away, Nick blushing, and Monroe studiously not making eye contact with anyone.

“We’re good. And we appreciate the help,” Nick said. Roddy’s relief was short-lived as he continued, “But we really need to talk about this.”

Monroe nodded in agreement, and Roddy could have banged his head against the brick wall as they launched into a long lecture, interrupting each other and jumping in to add things in. What was he thinking? Now they were going to be focusing _all_ their attention on him.

As he trailed after them, nodding glumly and really not listening, he saw Nick’s hand brush against Monroe’s, and for once, instead of jerking it back, he let it stay there. He smiled. Even as he heard suspicious things like “concentrate more on your schoolwork” and “apply for colleges”, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it was worth it.


End file.
